


Half Done

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Planet, F/F, Get Together, Vaginal Fingering, Wing Kink, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: "So I were thinking," the Doctor said, "there's a planet we could go to where the people have wings, the Tziporat. They might be able to help you a bit.""Has it been that obvious that I'm having trouble?""Not too obvious," the Doctor assured Yaz, "but I know what to look for. And how dealing with a new body can be a problem. I mean, usually for me when it's a new body it's the whole body, which makes it a little easier, I'd think? Since it's all new, you're working it out. Versus compensating for some when the rest is familiar. Like an uncanny valley sort of thing."
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Half Done

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecat/gifts).



Yaz woke up belly down, and had a brief moment of panic; she'd always been more comfortable sleeping on her back, and the sensation of a pillow pressing into her cheek still sometimes gave her a bit of a shock. Then the memory of the past week (and the heaviness on her back) brought her back to reality. 

Right. That. 

Yaz sat up, slowly, and she stretched. Her arms went over her head, her fingers linked together, her back cracking. The stiffness left her limbs, and she stood up, still yawning. 

Her new wings spread out as well, and she nearly fell over, still unused to the counterbalance. It had been a few weeks now, but twenty years wingless were a hard habit to break. Her wings spread out again, and she was able to keep her balance better this time. More or less. The fact that there was now so much _more_ of her body was still taking some adjustment - remembering how to walk through doors, how to keep from knocking things off of shelves.

The strangest part of it all was how _not_ wrong it felt in other ways. She'd read up on descriptions on body dysphoria, on all the different ways a brain could convince a body that something was _wrong_ , regardless of whether it was something that did, in theory, belong there.

And yet.

Admittedly, the scientist who'd given her the wings had promised to grant her "deepest wish," and okay, so she'd never actually _talked_ about this with anyone, but... well.

Well. 

Yaz was careful, as she got dressed. She had to be careful as she braided her hair, to make sure the knot of the red halter top didn’t get caught in any of the little hairs at the base of her neck. She wore a lot of halter tops these days, since it was difficult to get a regular shirt on. The Doctor said that some winged species she knew just went topless, but Yaz wasn't sure she'd be willing to do _that_. 

Besides the whole decency thing, she was cold enough in the halter tops, and she didn't want to think of whatever odd things around the TARDIS might get her more... delicate bits. 

She nearly got caught in the doorway again, because of course she did, although it didn't take too much effort to pull her wings against her body as she walked, her feathers ticklish against the bare skin of her shoulders. And that was an odd thing to think about, wasn't it? _Her_ feathers, the feathers that had grown out of her own body, the golden feathers that she could _feel_ stand on end when she got anxious, or smooth down when she relaxed. 

She was aware, distantly, that she should have been bothered by this. And yet.

"Hello, Yaz," said the Doctor, looking up from where she was fiddling with the console. "So I were thinkin' -"

"Always a dangerous endeavor," Yaz said, and her wings puffed up, just a bit. She caught the Doctor's eyes flicking over them, and she blushed. She was going to learn to have a better poker face, wasn't she? Poker... feathers?

"So I were _thinking_ ," the Doctor said, ignoring the gentle jibe, "there's a planet we could go to where the people have wings, the Tziporat. They might be able to help you a bit."

"Has it been that obvious that I'm having trouble?" Yaz gave a rueful smile, and the Doctor shot her one back, her eyes flicking from Yaz's eyes to the broad sweep of feathers over Yaz's shoulder. 

It was the same kind of furtive look Yaz associated with someone glancing down her top, or along her legs. That was something interesting to file away for later, though, because the TARDIS was rattling along, and they were rattling along inside of it, like two pennies in an empty coffee can. Yaz's wings spread out to help her keep her balance, and she grabbed one of the crystal pillars to keep her balance. 

"Not too obvious," the Doctor assured Yaz, "but I know what to look for. And how dealing with a new body can be a problem. I mean, usually for me when it's a new body it's the _whole_ body, which makes it a little easier, I'd think? Since it's all new, you're working it out. Versus compensating for some when the rest is familiar. Like an uncanny valley sort of thing."

Yaz smiled in spite of herself, watching the Doctor race around the console. "So what am I gonna be learnin' from this lot?" She let her wings spread, then slowly closed them again. Using those new muscles took some getting used to, admittedly, but it was already... if not comfortable, was at least familiar. 

“A few things,” said the Doctor, “like how to not knock stuff over. And also they were reachin’ out to us about… something.” She frowned down at the console, and pulled a screen closer to her. “The TARDIS always has trouble when it comes to interpreting languages with whistles in it. Haven’t the foggiest why, she can do tentacle suckers and xylophone, and yet. Maybe it’s like folks with the “cha” when it comes to Hebrew or Arabic, she just trips over it.”

“What d’you mean, suckers?” Another rattle, and Yaz’s wings flared out again, as she stumbled to keep her balance. 

“The Cepholodogians,” said the Doctor, her tone earnest. “They communicate by popping their tentacle suckers. Different suckers work like tones in a tonal language. So a _pop_ ,” she popped her thumb in her cheek, “from the upper left gripping arm is different from a _pop_ ,” another pop of her cheek, “from the lower left walking arm.”

“You’re pullin’ my leg,” Yaz said, and she was laughing in spite of herself, grabbing the console to keep from falling over. 

“Of which you only have two, unlike the Cepholodogians,” the Doctor said, in a solicitous tone of voice. She ran back, and her shoulder brushed against one wing. It sent an interesting little shiver up Yaz’s back, and her feathers fluffed up, but then the TARDIS came to a stop, and Yaz clutched the console to keep her balance. 

Yaz snorted. 

“But,” said the Doctor, “I have possibly been asked to a christening. Or they might have sent out a distress signal asking for help with a drought. I honestly don’t know all of the details, except that they invited us, and really, who am I to say no to an invitation?” 

"You _are_ bad at ignoring them," Yaz agreed. 

"And there's the bonus of them being able to help you adjust," the Doctor said. "So really, win-win all around, yeah?"

"I suppose, when you look at it that way," said Yaz. Her feathers were still fluffing. 

The Doctor looked like she was about to say something. Her eyes kept roaming around Yaz's wings, Yaz's bare arms, Yaz's face.

Then there was a pounding on the door, which jolted the both of them out of whatever reverie they'd both been in, and the Doctor rushed into action. 

-*-

So it turned out to be a bit of both.

There was indeed a christening - sort of, from what Yaz could understand. A small child - somewhere between a baby and a toddler, with feathers on their wings like grey dryer lint - was being passed around. The Doctor dutifully fussed over them, then handed the kid over to another relative. 

The TARDIS really _did_ have issues with whistling - sometimes words were translated in a way that Yaz didn't entirely understand, sometimes they were just so accented that Yaz couldn't make out what it was. It was a bit like visiting relatives who lived in a different part of the world, where everyone seemed very happy to see her, but she didn't recognize any of them.

The people who lived on this planet were very birdlike - everyone was topless, and Yaz saw a lot of feathers. There was a lot of clucking and fussing as the Doctor explained what had happened to her, and a bottle of... something was passed on to the Doctor, although everyone was talking so fast that Yaz didn't quite catch what it was supposed to be. 

And then they were in a cave.

The bird people were clearly anxious about it - there was a lot most whistling tones, and at some point, the toddler had been handed to Yaz - she wasn't sure when, but there was down stickling Yaz's chin, and sticky little fingers clutching at her halter top. The kid didn't seem to have hit the language stage yet, or else the TARDIS _really_ couldn't translate the little peeps. 

Yaz had never been especially _good_ with little kids, but at least this one wasn't very heavy, and wasn't grabbing for her hair. 

"The problem," the Doctor was saying, "is the cave ins. And I do appreciate you taking me down here, Vayana, I know that you don't like being underground like this." 

More conversation, and the whistles and trilling tones seemed to echo in the vast, empty caves. There was the sound of water, far off, and Yaz made her way towards it. The toddler seemed to have fallen asleep, little head tucked under Yaz'a chin, and Yaz's arms were already getting tired. 

_This was easier when I could hold the kid on my back_ , Yaz thought absently, making her way down one tunnel. Her footsteps echoed back at her, and the sound of water seemed to be getting louder as the conversation grew more distant. 

When Yaz was almost out of the torchlight, a little bit of down went up her nose. She sneezed, hard enough that it made her ears ring, and then things seemed to happen very fast. 

There was a little rain of dust, and then a faint rumble. Before Yaz even had time to think about what she was doing, she was covering the both of them with her wings, wrapping them tight. The toddler woke up and was peeping like a distressed baby bird in Yaz's ear, and the rumble and crash was getting louder. 

Yaz squeezed her wings tighter, almost as tightly as her eyes were shut, and she tried to put every bit of terror coiling in her gut towards trusting that the Doctor would get them out. 

-*- 

Of course, they were rescued. 

The Doctor always came through - it was just what she _did_. Yaz spent most of it talking to the toddler and conveying the information to the Doctor.

They ended up finding the water, at least. The bird people apparently had trouble hearing whatever the frequency the water was trickling at or... something. Yaz honestly wasn't sure of the specifics. She was very tired, and she was very sore.

"We're gonna have to stay overnight, just to check on things," said the Doctor. "We can stay in a tent, or we can go back to the TARDIS."

"Tent sounds fine," Yaz said, although truth be told, she was thinking more along the lines of the trek to the TARDIS. 

"And you can sort out your wings," said one of the younger children from behind an adult.

Said young child got prodded in the side and scolded in a long, whistling tirade that made Yaz wince in sympathy. Then they were being herded towards a big white tent, which was piled high with rugs and cushions inside. 

There was more whistling and fast talking, and then tent flaps were closed, and it was the two of them in an airy tent. They were both able to stand inside of it, and Yaz's wings would have brushed the walls if she spread them wide. 

"Is there something wrong with my wings?" Yaz looked over one shoulder at one. The golden-brown feathers were somewhat ruffled and a few of them seemed to be at odd angles. 

“They could do with a tidy up,” the Doctor said. “They gave me some feather oil, I think as a hint.” She dug around in one pocket (all the way up to her elbow, and how deep did those pockets _go_?) and came back out with the bottle. “How’ve you been managing?”

“I’m new at it,” Yaz admitted. “Takin’ some time to… adjust.” The Doctor’s eyes were still darting from the wings to Yaz’s face to the curve of Yaz’s breasts, under the red halter top. 

“Wel,” said the Doctor, “I can honestly say it’ll be much simpler for me to do it for you.” Her fingers flexed once, and she bit her lip. 

The light in the tent was low - they had a lantern on a little table, and the suns were beginning to set. “If you’re sure,” Yaz said. “Don’t wanna put you out.” _There isn’t a bed in here_ , she thought, _but then again, there are so many tents we can probably just bed down without too much trouble._

“Wouldn’t be offerin’ it if I weren’t okay with doin’ it,” said the Doctor cheerfully. “Might be simpler if you took your top off, though. To keep from gettin’ anything on it.”

Yaz’s eyes met the Doctor’s. There was a very pregnant pause, and the Doctor was turning pink, in the golden light. Something was passing between them, and Yaz’s wings were puffing out. _Okay_ , Yaz thought. _I wish my brain would clue me in on whatever it is the rest of me is feeling._

“Okay,” Yaz said. 

“Right,” the Doctor said, and she rubbed her hands together, “We should just… get you situated, shall we?” 

-*-

Yaz sat on a pillow, topless, and she tried not to make embarrassing noises as the Doctor slowly felt along her wings. 

“Some of your feathers are a little misaligned,” said the Doctor. “Let’s just… sort that out first.” There was the feeling of the Doctor’s breath against the back of Yaz’s neck, and Yaz’s hair was being pushed to the side. The Doctor scooted closer, and there were knees against Yaz’s back. 

There was a moment, as the Doctor took a deep breath, and then the gentle sensation of fingers along Yaz’s left wing. Yaz shivered, and her whole body went rigid, then limp. The Doctor’s fingers were burrowing between the stiffer flight feathers, into the down. She wriggled her fingers, and it sent more sensation dancing along Yaz’s nerves.

One of Yaz’s mates had this thing she’d called the orgasmatron. It was some kind of mass of wires, and the top of it… vibrated - Yaz hadn’t been too clear on the specifics, honestly, but she’d gone into a stupified, shivering haze once the wires had gently scraped across her scalp. This was nothing like that in a lot of ways, but _identical_ in others. Her breasts were tingling, her toes were curling, and the arousal that washed over her was like falling into the deep end of a swimming pool.

Only tingly. And warm. 

Okay, so not like falling into a swimming pool. Maybe she was going down some odd routes. It seemed like her body was diverting all of the blood in her body to her wings, her nipples, her scalp. She bit her lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises, and her heart was very loud in her ears. So was the gentle clicking sound, as the Doctor’s fingers moved through her fingers. 

“You don’t seem to have damaged anything,” the Doctors said, after some unknown amount of time had passed. Her voice was very quiet, and it was vibrating through Yaz’s whole body. Her fingers were cooler than the skin under Yaz’s feathers, but her breath was humid against Yaz’s shoulder. “From the rocks.”

“That’s good,” Yaz managed to get out. “It weren’t… a lot. Of rocks.”

“A cave in is a decent amount of rock,” the Doctor protested. Her fingers were deeper in the feathers, and they were ruffling things. More quiet clicking.

“There weren’t a cave in on _me_ ,” Yaz said. She hissed as the Doctor nudged a sensitive spot, her head rolling forward, her chin pressed against her chest. Something was beginning to build in the depths of her gut, along the line of her spine. “I mean… I were safe. And the little one.”

“That’s the important part,” the Doctor said, and her fingers were gently ruffling the feathers. “I don’t think you need any oil,” the Doctor added, and her hands were moving further along the wing. She gently held one joint, flexed it, and then she was moving back towards the spot where the wing met Yaz’s shoulder. 

“No oil change,” Yaz said dazedly. She was floating at this point, a shuddering, panting mass of arousal and some kind of other desperation, something that she didn’t have a name for, except that it was clawing up her back like a rat in a trap.

“When you put it that way it makes you sound like a car,” the Doctor scolded, and her knuckle dug into a sore spot. Then Yaz _did_ make an embarrassing noise, and the Doctor snorted, a puff of warm air that raised up even more goosebumps. 

Letting the one noise out seemed to make it impossible to keep in any of the other ones. As the Doctor gently made her way along the wing, Yaz couldn’t seem to stop the little gasps, moans, and whimpers. She gave up on holding any conversation, and let her whole body fill with the warm tingles. It was like being rubbed all over with bunny fur, or maybe like running through high grass. Her nipples were hard, and she drew her other wing across her chest, just to feel the brush of feathers against the sensitive flesh.

She was still in her trousers, and the seam of them pressed obscenely against her clit. It would have been embarrassing as the things the Doctor was drawing out of her with every little twitch of her strong fingers?

“There we go,” the Doctor said, some unknown time later, and Yaz blinked, trying to get her bearings.

“What?” Yaz blinked.

“That one is finished,” the Doctor said, and she gave the top of Yaz’s wing another gentle squeeze. It sent more tingles through Yaz, and she shuddered again, her skin erupting in goosebumps like ripples in a pond. 

“Oh,” said Yaz thickly. 

“I’ll do the other one now, if that’s okay with you,” said the Doctor. “I hope it’s okay with you,” she added. “Never did like leaving a job half finished. Like walkin’ around with only one shoe on.”

Wordlessly, Yaz extended her other wing. 

The Doctor seemed less hesitant with this wing. Her fingers dug into the feathers, and the clicking seemed a little louder this time. Or maybe Yaz was just drowning in the sensations, and too far gone to do anything but let herself sit there and _feel_ it. At some point, the Doctor’s legs were extended on either side of Yaz’s, and the Doctor was that much closer. Occasionally, there’d be the sensation of dry lips against the back of Yaz’s neck, but Yaz couldn’t pay any attention to that, apart from in a very, very offhand sort of way. 

The pleasure building was getting stronger, and she was fluffing her feathers out - she was _aware_ of it, but she couldn’t seem to stop, she was just hunching forward, her hips rocking awkwardly. _I want something inside of me_ , she thought distantly, _so I can feel it inside and out_ , and then she stopped thinking anything, because the Doctor seemed to have found some heretofore unknown sweet spot, and the fingers of her other hand was stroking down the line of soft curled feathers along Yaz’s spine. She did _something_ , and then Yaz’s down was fluffing out, and she was shaking as she came, right then and there. 

Yaz’s whole body _convulsed_ , and her cunt shuddered around nothing. The sweet, heady pleasure seemed to pulse through her, and her feathers rattled as she flapped her wings, full spread out. She should have been embarrassed - she probably was, in some deep, anxious recess of her mind - but all that was in her mind right then was that she needed to touch as much of the Doctor as she could.

The Doctor made a surprised noise when Yaz turned around, and she made another awkward noise when Yaz’s mouth pressed into her own. She sighed when Yaz climbed into her lap, and then they were kissing each other. 

_I’d have thought there would be more talking first, before the first time we kissed_ , Yaz thought, but she opened her mouth to the Doctor’s questing tongue, and then the Doctor’s hands were on her arse, pulling her closer.

“Yaz,” the Doctor whispered against Yaz’s mouth, “ _Yaz_!” 

“Doctor, please,” Yaz whimpered. “Please, don’t… oh, _fuck_!” 

One hand was on Yaz’s breast, and the other was grasping the edge of Yaz’s left wing. One thumb was circling over Yaz’s hardened nipple, and the other was ruffling up Yaz’s feathers. Yaz’s head tilted back, her own hair tickling her back, disturbing more feathers, and the Doctor gasped, and moaned, grabbing a full handful of feathers as well, and it should have been too much, but it _wasn’t_ , it was all the kind of perfect that Yaz hadn’t realized she’d been dreaming about. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor said, “Yaz, please, please, I want… can I…” 

“Anything,” Yaz babbled, “anything you want, just don’t stop, don’t ever - oh, _yes_ that, that, _that_!” Her voice cracked, as the Doctor’s hand slid down the front of her trousers. They were loose enough, thankfully, and then the heel of the Doctor’s hand was pressing against her clit, and her fingertips were carding through Yaz’s sticky pubic hair. The Doctor’s wrist had to be at an awkward angle, and her fingers would probably cramp up soon, but oh _fuck_ , Yaz… 

Yaz’s wings spread out wide, and she wrapped them around the two of them. It was like a smaller tent covering them, and it all smelled of feathers and sweat, their breath steaming up the enclosed space. She was surrounded by her own scent, by the Doctor’s, and the Doctor’s hands kept running down her back, along her wings. 

“You look like an angel,” the Doctor said. “Sort of. Minus the extra heads. Or the wheels. Or the extra eyes. So I guess I could say that you’re more like a painting of an angel from -”

“I get what ya mean, Doctor,” Yaz managed to gasp out, and then her feathers shook and her whole body tightened up. The Doctor’s fingers were buried in her down, nails gently scratching the delicate skin. The first two fingers of her other hand were buried in Yaz’s cunt up to the last knuckle, and they were curling. 

Yaz didn’t really have a choice, when it came down to it. She rode the Doctor’s fingers, her thighs like marble on either side of the Doctor’s waist, and her wings stayed wrapped around the two of them. Her orgasm felt like falling off her bike, or running into a glass door - out of nowhere, but inevitable, and sending every nerve in her body firing off. Her wings spread so wide that they might have been distorting the shape of the tent, but _oh_ , the pleasure that filled her wrung her out like a cloth, and the only thing she could do was gasp and tremble her way through it, still riding the Doctor’s fingers, until her internal muscles had stopped fluttering. 

Her wings, tired, settled back down, and she flopped forward, her chin on top of the Doctor’s head. She had her arms wrapped around the Doctor, and she was holding on tightly to the Doctor’s shoulders. 

The Doctor’s cold nose nuzzled into Yaz’s cleavage, and Yaz snuffled into her hair. 

“Y’know,” the Doctor said, after a few beats of quiet, “I were hoping we’d have a quick snog. Gotta say, this has really knocked it out of the park.” 

“You offered to help me with my wings in hopes of a snog?” Yaz leaned back, her wings still out to keep her balance, and she looked the Doctor in the face.

The Doctor didn’t have the good grace to look ashamed. “Were hoping for one, yeah,” she said. “Been a while.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Yaz said fervently, and then she hissed as the Doctor’s fingers shifted inside of her. “ _Oh_.”

“Good, eh?” The Doctor grinned. 

“Yeah,” Yaz said thickly. “Good.” She licked her lips. “D’you want me to return the favor?” She groaned, as the Doctor curled her fingers again.

“Oh, definitely,” the Doctor said, and then she was pulling her fingers out of Yaz’s cunt, slipping them into her mouth without a trace of self consciousness. “But,” she said, “I’m not done yet.”

“Not done yet?” Yaz tried to get her thoughts in order. She was still aroused, over sensitive. Her wings were still tingling. 

“Your wings,” the Doctor said. “One of’ ‘em is still half done.”

“Oh,” said Yaz. “Well. Wouldn’t wanna leave anything half done, I suppose.”

“Exactly,” the Doctor said, clearly delighted. “Glad we’re on the same page!” And then her fingers were sliding up along Yaz’s feathers again. 

Yaz let herself fade into the pleasure of it, as her breasts rubbed against the soft weave of the Doctor’s t-shirts. She wasn’t actually sure how much this was helping her wings, but… well, she wasn’t going to tell the Doctor to _stop_.

Wouldn’t want to leave the job half done, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I was this close to making a KFC bucket joke, since there was a bit where the Doctor has a breast and a wing in hand.


End file.
